The Painful Side of Being Bipolar

Well this is so painful to say, but I BOMBED my Security job interview.  I mean, atom-bombed it.  I froze.  I forgot words mid-sentence.  I felt like a fraud, like I was full of shit.  I think I came across that way.  I attribute this to brain fog, which I attribute to an increased dose of Topamax, also known as Dope-a-Max,  which Dr. Drugs increased to stabilize my mood.  My unstable finances and this job search have thrown me into turmoil.   Before this, I had a relatively nice long stretch of stability and some happiness with life.  But, unstable finances are enough to drive me to drink, if not to suicidal ideation, and not wanting a job, combined with needing a job, makes me quite crazy.

It makes me sad to have done so poorly in my interview.  I got up at 5am to prepare, and I really tried my best.  I feel betrayed by my brain.  After the interview, I was in so much mental and emotional pain, it was hard to be with myself.  I wanted to drink, I wanted to drug, but I just had a seltzer (my “drink”) and tried to be kind to myself.  Sometimes life is just painful.  I wrote an appropriate, heartfelt thank you letter for the interview and let it go.

I got a call yesterday about another Security job, this one much closer to home, and PART-TIME!!!  I had a pre-qualifying phone interview, which I passed, and I’m waiting to hear if there will be an in-person interview.  They asked what I wanted in terms of pay, and I don’t know if the numbers I named were too high but dammit it’s a Security job and I want to be paid appropriately!  So, we will see.

I have an interview for a damned Desktop Support job on Tuesday, I will go reluctantly.  I just have to keep walking through this job search with some measure of willingness.

I’m glad it’s the weekend, I need a little break from life!!  Hope you are all well.  Peach out, BPOF!

A Bad Case Of The Dammits

I’ve started writing this blog post about fifty-eleven times. I am so agitated that I abruptly close Word, dammit!  YES I want to write, NO I do NOT!  I have a craving for the creative – but none of my available outlets are satisfying to me.  Dammit!  I bought a tie-dye kit, but the t-shirts I ordered from Amazon won’t be here until next week.  Dammit!  I want to do it NOW!  I’m thinking about going to Target and buying some men’s v-neck tees so that I can do some now.  I like those v-necks.  But what size am I now?  Dammit!  I don’t know.  Better go XL.  But if they’re too big?  My boobs won’t look good.  Dammit!  Do ya see a little glimmer of the agitation I’m feeling?  Oh yeah and I have therapy today.  Dammit!  I don’t want to go to therapy.  I don’t want to talk about feeling agitated, scared, and out of sorts.  I don’t want to BE these things, Dammit!  Maybe I just need to get out and get some exercise.  Which is yet another thing I don’t want to do.  Dammit!  I wish I could just go back to bed, dammit.  Is there a pill for the Dammits?

My Therapist Should Have Paid ME Today

I think the therapist should have paid me today. It was all good news!  I’m going to Florida!  Yeaaahhhh!  I got a health club membership!!  Booyah!!  I figured out the prescription dilemma!  Kickassss!!  I got health insurance!!!  Supercalifragilous!!!!  Now if you don’t have a therapist who says stuff like “kickass, booyah and supercalifragilous”, I suggest you fire him/her immediately and hire ME because I have become a PRO at creating fictional, but very supportive, therapist talk!

At this point in my bipolar career I consider myself to have an honorary PhD, considering I have been in therapy on and off for the better part of … hmmm… let’s just say a lot of fucking years. That doesn’t sound as bad as the real number.  So, the new title of this blog is Bipolaronfire, PhD.  The doctor is IN!  I can speak therapy, ECT, medication, French, and I can curse in Spanish.  That’s what you call well-rounded in the educated world.  Also, I can fix your fucking computer while I do all that.  But I will be an asshole as I do it, because I hate customer service.  Total burnout.  So there’s that.

My Mom thinks I should be a teacher as my next career, but I’m not doing anything where I can’t be an asshole some of the time, because that’s just the nature of bipolar disorder. Sometimes I’m sweet, and sometimes I am fucking sour.  Ask anyone in my family, they’ll tell you!  “She has such a big heart!” one person will say.  “She is such a big bitch!” another will say.  And they’re both right.  So, I’ll be a therapist.  On those sour days, I’ll just be silent.  You know, fuck with their heads.  Make them do all the work.  Wait a minute!  Maybe I should be a psychiatrist!!!  This is going to take some more pondering.  In the meantime I guess I’ll go watch Cops.  Don’t act like you don’t have a totally trashy guilty pleasure tv show you’re workin’ undercover!  C’mon…you can tell me.

Peach to the outs, homes!!!

Funniness From The Way Back Machine

Oh! Oh my!  This one is a side-splitter!!  That Bipolaronfire sure is one hell of a smart ass!!  It’s good to see that two and a half years ago, just out of the looney bin, I was kicking ass and taking names.  It’s always important to keep those “Mental Health Professionals” on their toes.  Let’s make this a great day, people!  Go for the belly laugh.

Coping With NO Mania

A lot of my weekend and in fact free time lately has been spent wondering:  What the fuck should I be doing?  I have been in a lull energy-wise and in a lull when it comes to creativity.  Muse, where the fuck are you?  This creative cycling is a real bitch.  It seems to go along with the rest of the bipolar cycle.  So I sit, at my computer, on the couch, going, duhhhhh.  No.  This is not what I want to do.  I am reading a book on setting up a bona-fide Etsy shop that makes money.  Must get back to that.  Anything approaching a discipline is a novel act to me.  Also I am attempting a new daily practice:  Exercise.  Fuck.  Anything to feel better!!  Maybe feeling better will get that bitchy little Muse back into my life for a visit, spark a few creative sparks, get me cookin’ with gas again.  I don’t like how not-in-control of this I am.  I think I’ll go take a walk.  Oh but by the way I am still on the gratitude kick.  I will practice gratitude on my walk.  Ok Bipolar on Fire saying over and out, Sundays should last 48 hours, peaches to your mama.

Gratitude

One of the tricks that I remember from my old AA days is Gratitude. Those recovering alcoholics really know how to mine gratitude and how to use it to their advantage. It’s easy how I forget what works, and fall into the shits. Today has been one of those days. Actually, this has been one of those years. Decades. Allright, allright, I’m being grandiose! I’m the shittiest bipolar, ever! Ha! I beat you! I’m shittier than YOU! YEAH! No. That’s not what this is about. This is about gratitude. STFU, ego. At lunch today, I put together a little attitude adjustment, and all it took was a little teensy weensy gratitude list. I didn’t even have to write it down. I just told my dear friend Chris, who kindly tolerates the nickname Crispy Fries. I told Crispy Fries everything I’m grateful for. And ya know what? I FEEL BETTER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! My mood is lighter!! Yeah! Just like that!! No drugs!! Didn’t cost me a thing!! A little gratitude can go a long way. I am going to practice gratitude this week. My new antidepressant, GRATITUDE.

I Dream of ECT

I went to see a new psychiatrist yesterday.  I failed miserably in my effort not to cry throughout the appointment.  DAMMIT!  Why can’t I ever control my tears???  I wish I could turn off the damn spigot!  I am a baby.  Anyways, the psych seems like a good guy.  He actually takes THREE APPOINTMENTS to diagnose, so I have one down and two to go before I get his grand pronouncement on what the fuck my problem is.  I swear to GOD I am so down on the depression and so sick of it and so sick of crying and so sick of struggling, I’m ready to request ECT!!  I’ve never had it before but I’ve heard that zapping the fuck out of your brains can help when nothing else does.  I will wait and see what he says.  I personally think I have bipolar, ADD and depression.  The Trifecta of mental illness, I know, I’m just fancy like that.  I guess depression might be included in the bipolar diagnosis, but I hear/read of some bipolars who don’t deal with too much depression, so what the fuck do I know.  Anyways this is a long ramble of a post so I thank you for coming along, at the end you get a cookie.  Ok just kidding but if I could I would hand out cookies for reading this sucker.  Well I guess I will go back to doing a whole lotta nothin’.  Peace out homies.  Or, as I like to say, “Peach out.”  PEACHES!

…And it continues!

So, I REALLY want to stop functioning.  Like, REALLY!!!!  I want to quit this job and say “Fuck the world”.  The only thing that keeps me from doing it, and I know this is pansy-ish (or is this what holds everyone together?) is that I don’t want to move!!!!  I really love where I live, it’s a somewhat posh house, very expensive rent, and no job=no house.  I can’t bullshit my way around and say “I’ll make the money some other way – I won’t.  It’s a lot of money.  God DAMN this fucking capitalism and all its little claws that keep you sucked in!  I swear to GOD I will throw it all out and buy me an RV and just drive around this fucking country!!!  But there again….I worry….without the moorings…the familiarity of home and family…will I be ok?   Or will I just be fucking myself over?  Oh dear Lord is this just the ranting of a crazy bipolar woman?  I don’t know.

Bipolar Bitches Anonymous Volume II is Now In Session!

“Oh Performance Review you son of a bitch you have no power over me!”  I hurl as I chew my second piece of marijuana candy of the day, contemplating vodka.   What is it with these fucking workplaces, anyway?  Ya go there and do a job, in this case, I do a job I hate, it’s a shitty job but I do my best, which on some days is pretty damn good and on other days it’s not jack shit.  Well I guess that’s why I got an overall rating of Satisfactory.  3 out of 5 points.  To me that says “you’re barely cutting it.”  Even though I hate the job and I think the workplace sucks, it’s still a bitter pill to swallow.  I have always been a top performer at my job, always been rated “Exceeds expectations” – so to be told that I’m just “meh” – well I have to say I took it personally and it’s kind of knocked me off my rocker.  I think I’ll just have one small drink….let’s all get our bitch on shall we?

 

Why Paranoid Bipolars Should Stay Away From the Online Dating Game

RING

Well I fell for it again.  One of my friends told me about the site where she met her husband and I got all misty eyed and gushy inside and said awwwwwwwwwwwwwwww  I gotta try it!  So I post a pic & write fifteen words or so and I start getting matches!  Well whaddya know they all look like motorcycle murderers!  I swear to Jeezy this shit ain’t for me!  Now every time I get a match, instead of thinking “Hey! Maybe this is The One!” I am thinking “What the hell does HE want?”  and I’m just SURE he’s up to no good and he does NOT see me for who I really am!  I think I might need to go back to just being friends with guys who in meet in the real life…and see where it goes from there.  This paranoia thing is a beeyatch!  Sweet & Sour Bipolar Over & Out!

The Sweet and Sour Chronicles, Volume II

Shit-Colored Glasses

I think I’ve been on a bit of a negativity binge.  Everything that happens at my job pisses me off.  Everything that happens there proves me right.  See??  This place IS dysfunctional!!  Ok for sure the place does work people into the ground.  But!  They gave me a job and they give me an awfully nice paycheck every two weeks.  If I don’t like it I can quit, right?  Oh lawdy jeez methinks I might need to remove the shit-colored glasses… and just when I was really gettin’ cookin!

My first clue as I sat at my desk today looking out my precious window (where I can watch a juvenile hawk come and dive-bomb the little birds) was that I tried to think of what to be grateful for, and then I said, “No.”  Uh, Hello!  Time for an attitude adjustment my friend!

In my 20’s when I had a bad boyfriend who crashed his car into my car, on purpose, and was so scary that I had to go stay in a safehouse, and then caused me to be evicted from my home, my best friend made me call her every day and tell her ten things I was grateful for.  My life was in the shitter on Shit Street in Shitsville and I had to come up with ten things to be grateful for!  Well let me tell ya, I think it got me through.  So, if it worked then, it’ll work now.

I’m not going to torture you with my self-absorbed and very probably stupid list, (who knows, I might say I’m grateful for my teeth, or my boobs) but I will say that I shall make a list every day for the next week, and then check back in.

And that’s it!  From the Sweet & Sour Chronicles, feelin’ a little sour but willing to let that change.

Sick Sucks!

BOW DOWNOh MAN red alert on the stomach flu that’s going around!!  I am on my fourth day of it and it has put me through the physical and emotional wringer!!  I don’t know if this is true for any of my fellow bp’s, but for me, running a fever is akin to a full nervous breakdown.  I might as well not be on any medicine at all!  I’ve been crying like it’s the new black, catastrophizing to the point where I’ve lost my job and am living in a homeless shelter, I’ve eaten six crackers in four days, puked the rainbow…what else?  Well I guess that’s enough detail for now, I don’t want to send you into a sympathetic response.  Suffice to say I am exhausted.  This is a doosy of a fuckin’ flu.  Is it possible that THE DEVIL created the flu?  Could this be biological warfare?  If not, it should be.  It’d be a very potent weapon to bring the enemy to its knees, literally.  Oh, mama.  Just writing this has caused me to need a nap.  So, I’ll sign off for now, see you again when I’m healthier my friends.  Beware of the Tummy Terror!  Avoid at all costs!!!

Somebody Get Me a DRANK!

DRANKI got my feelings hurt today, whoop-de-doo-doo, it happens all the time, right?  But right now I am sensitive as a mofo and a tad bit unbalanced and the results were a) A monster stomachache, b) A headache so bad I wanted to barf, and c) Crazy-girl talk and tears combined.  Is this a multiple-choice exam?  No!  Well yes, as long as you choose d) All of the above.  I am feeling kookoo and beyond and I’m wondering, is there a pill for this?  And then I remember, oh shit!  I’m already on FIVE!  Does anybody have a good explanation for me?  Is it Mercury Retrograde?  Saturn Serenade?  Jupiter Gatorade?  Fuck somebody hand me a vodka!

Bienvenue Au Hollywood Savoy!

One time in my 20’s I got a wild hair up my butt and decided I didn’t like my life any more so the best thing seemed to be to move to PARIS.  Now I didn’t take this decision lightly!  I thought it over for oh, fifteen minutes or so.  How would I make a living?, people asked.  “Well, I don’t know why I’m saying this, but I want to sing!”, I’d say.  Where did that come from?  It was just a gut hunch.  Nothing else.

So, I set my sights on Paris.  I set a date.  I let my job know.  I had a BIG sale and sold off most of my possessions.  I packed away the rest, put them in storage and paid up the storage unit for a good long time.  I bought a plane ticket with a flexible return date.  And then…. I got on that plane and went to Paris.

I found my way around Paris surprisingly easily and found all of the places where the American ex-pats hung around.  One day as we were discussing my job prospects, one of my new friends asked “You can’t sing, can you?” at which point little bells began to ring in my head and I replied in the affirmative.  She took me round to the Hollywood Savoy, a popular American-themed restaurant where the waitresses would sing in between waiting tables.  I was promptly hired.

It didn’t lead to any magical singing career, but it did lead to an important internal knowing, about listening to the little voice that knows.  Because when the little voice knows, IT FUCKING KNOWS.  Amen.

…and Good Evening.

Good EveningIt’s been a rough day emotionally.  I had therapy today and it never ceases to amaze me how I can bop in there full of reports about how my life is just going swimmingly, only to have these shadows rise from the depth of me and engulf me with their sadness and grief.  Ahh yes, THIS is why I am in therapy!  THIS is why I struggle.  THIS is why I want to drink to numb myself out of existence!  Just for tonight, (stopping for a sob or two) I am committing to NOT drink, but rather to feel, whatever needs to be felt.  To walk through whatever needs to be walked through.  To be there for myself, and be 100% authentic in the sadness and grief as it washes over me.  Wash over and through me, let my tears cleanse me, and then be done for now.